


keep the day from ending

by Beckingham



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 21:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/602418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beckingham/pseuds/Beckingham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, Mr. Gold pines as the years go by unnoticed but very much missed. (Rumbelle Secret Santa gift)</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep the day from ending

**Author's Note:**

> love-makes-us-sick-dearie prompted "Rumple is locked up instead" for their Secret Santa gift, and here's what my fingers spat out with that. :)

**1**

  
For Mr. Gold, a distinct man with exacting expectations and quite deliberate actions, the first he could recall in perfect clarity a moment of being such a man was 12:01 p.m. October 22nd, when he entered the cell that would be his charming abode for the next year. It had been odd, that moment, surreal because it wasn’t, and significant for no other reason than it was. _12:01_ , he’d thought, just one minute in the five hundred twenty-five thousand nine hundred and forty-eight minutes remaining.  
  
 _Soon_ , he’d thought, _in the blind of an eye even_. So Mr. Gold settled himself in and did what he did best: wait.  
  


**1440**

  
At 9:15 he’d gone to the post office regarding the forwarding of his mail, 9:50 he’d placed his spare key in Ashley’s hand and left the care of his home to a girl that he was fairly certain would gladly leave him bleeding on the ground but he was equally certain wouldn’t dare defy him on his territory (because even behind bars this town would still be quite decidedly _his_ ), and between 10:15 and 11:15 he went and collected the rent -- as he had every day he could remember.  
  
At 12:00 Mr. Gold watched Sheriff Graham unlock his cell and by 12:02 he’d found a sort of comfortable position on the cot and murmured “Two down”.  
  


**43,229**

  
He is somewhat concerned about the breathlessness that steals over him at 12:29, for one disgruntled second wondering if only twenty-nine minutes into his sentence had been enough to develop an anxiety disorder when even more curiously he’d thought to himself that these bars were as, if not more, familiar to him than the window panes to his front door.  
  
A knock jerks him back from these contemplations, his hands fist in anticipation as he watches the Sheriff rise and go to the station door, Mr. Gold’s mouth goes dry as a most familiar stranger enters the room and Graham introduces the woman that has apparently been hired to prepare food for Storybrooke’s resident convict.  
  
“Mr. Gold, this is Miss French, she’ll be making sure you don’t starve or fall ill of malnutrition, so I’d keep that in mind if I were you.”  
  
He’d barely heard what had been said but felt that if asked he could recite it word for word. He might have dwelled on this quirk if not for her small smile like a hand taking hold of him and shoving him unceremoniously into the sun.  
  
 _I don’t know you_ , he thought, bewildered, _I don’t know you at all_.  
  
The minutes, intent, marched on.  
  


**526,314**

  
_One day almost down, so many more to go._  
  
He watches her hum as she cuts up the chicken she’s about to pass to him on a paper plate filled with steaming hot sides and the surge of impatience he feels is truly something to marvel at.  
  
 _I’m just hungry_ , he decides, and it’s past 6:00 p.m. and soon this day will be over for the next to begin.  
  
Miss French gives him his dinner and bids him good night.  
  
The food gets cold as he plots ways to use tomorrow to unearth her first name, a sliver of desperation becoming a faint itch under his skin.  
  
Tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.  
  


**9,465,180**

  
Only an hour into his imprisonment at 1:01 p.m. Mayor Mills visits him (he feels like he’s known the girl who just left in his bones, but somehow only just recognizes Regina) and it isn’t much of a surprise when at first it seems she came only to mock his new situation.  
  
Somehow it’s even less of a surprise when she follows that by asking for a favor.  
  
If Mr. Gold is one thing, and one thing alone, that would be a procurer.  
  
He makes the arrangements, pulls the strings, weaves Regina a new life -- that of a mother.  
  
His price? Belle.  
  
Just that.  
  
Just her name, _finally_.  
  
(Finally?)  
  


**32**

  
She’s beautiful, this Miss French.  
  
She’s beautiful, and there are tiny burn marks, little nicks, and slight callouses on her hands and in her eyes like she could take the world as it is without flinching from damage. She is without falter.  
  
Her hands shake a little when she gives him his tea.  
  


**14,728,320**

  
October 23rd.  
  
He’s still and so much more than he was just yesterday, what really is just minutes ago, in a certain light.  
  
Mr. Gold doesn’t understand, doesn’t know what to do with what feels like cobwebs in his mouth and heart, but then a mess of blonde trouble lands herself in the cell next to him and he’s just idly amused until --  
  
 _Emma._  
  
Mr. Gold didn’t understand, so Rumpelstiltskin opens his mouth and purrs, “Emma, what a lovely name.”  
  


**the after**

  
It’s 12:01 and he’s counting the minutes until he sees her again.


End file.
